A Sword and His (New) Master
by brynhlldr
Summary: Ghirahim's left bloody and broken. Link's left adjusting to life after Demise. The two of them become unlikely friends and more. Gradual GhiraLink.


**Hey! Sorry it's been so long since I published anything on here. I haven't really had the muse to write fanfic much less my roleplay outside of a handful of them. This fic is an archive of my roleplay with tumblr user echoinglight. I write Ghirahim. Each new paragraph is switched between Link and Ghirahim's perspectives.**

 **I've also changed my penname. I went from zeldaulinku (formerly linkofdiamonds) before that to calliemari. sorry about the confusion!**

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Ghirahim's fingers clawed at his chest, the pit in his chest created by the times that the holy blade had been plunged into his very core, and finally destroyed by the fact his master had torn his blade from him without consent. It was a miracle that he was alive after that.

He could hardly remember where he was as he fell forward, collapsing on his side, eyes half lidded as his breathing passed his lips in hasty pants, and his form flickered, almost shifting back into his sword, even though he had no energy reserves to replenish his sword, and he had no master to rely on for that now.

Black surged over his lips and fingers, trying to quell the endless spilling of the inky blood from his body, far more than what a human could bleed out.

When the spell binding the realm finally broke, Link swayed on his feet, the pain of the battle and shock of the ending washing over him in harsh waves. He took a few deep breaths, slowly raising his eyes. He was at the center of the pit at the spot he'd entered the portal, and the skies above had cleared slightly from the destruction of the demon king. But this was the world of the past, and the wounds of the world had not begun to heal in this era.

It was time to go home.

He was eyeing the expanse of the pit that he had to once again get out of, knowing he had to muster the energy to do so, and starting to reach into his pouch for a remaining potion. But something prickled at his senses, and he whipped around with sword at the ready.

He froze in something beyond horror at what he saw. It had been one thing to see the damaged core of the spirit when they had to battle, and to see his sword disintegrate into nothingness… but this gruesome and anguished scene ripped into Link's compassionate heart. He slowly stepped forward, getting a better look at his enemy… or he who had once been.

"Fi… is… he alive?" Link asked on almost a whisper, his voice hoarse. The prospect terrified him, but… he couldn't help the twinges of empathy anyway.

"Yes, but his ability to heal is greatly reduced." She responded calmly as ever from within her sword.

Link slowly knelt and put his blade down beside him, tentatively reaching out, but not quite touching the damaged spirit. He was covered in what seemed like blood, unmoving, and Link took it in helplessly.

"Ghirahim…?" He chanced.

Ghirahim heard voices, his eyes flickering open and dark, hollow eyes staring up at who it was and he groaned, watching the blue sky and his eyes moved to stare at the hero, his hand outstretched to touch him. His eyes were the only thing that could move without too much pain, and his lips parted.

The demon took in as deep a breath as he could, letting it out in reply to the hero's question of nothing but his name. "Yes?" He let out a hoarse response, eyes falling to half mast again.

He faltered, falling into an internal debate as he tried and failed to get words out.

"I… you… how are you alive?" He finally got out, drawing back with uncertainty. He felt that part of his heart that had grown weary from the encounters with the demon try to rekindle that flame of hatred, but at the moment… in his weary state, confronted with the form in front of him, he hadn't the energy.

Ghirahim sighed and let out a croaky grumble. "No idea." He responded, shutting his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his form stable and in a condition where he could speak with Link. It was too easy for Link to end his existence, but if he was not dead already, he guessed that he was safe for the moment.

The demon wanted to sit up, look at him face to face, but the battles warred on was just too much for him.

"Demise is dead." Link blurted wearily, rubbing his face. "No more demons will be spawning…" He pressed his lips together and swallowed. "So… you're the last threat."

He frowned, sighing again. "Oh. Kill me, if you have to." It was as much as he could muster, his breath coming in patchy at the end.

He looked over at his sword, putting his hand on the hilt. "Yeah… I have to." He slowly stood, blade loosely in hand, barely keeping to his feet but gritting his teeth. "I can't let you go… then save the world from you again.

"Of course." He breathed, resigning to death, rolling onto his back and presenting the wound to Link, his black-stained hand falling to the inky grass.

The easy acceptance had Link hesitate, even as he held the sword pointed down and ready. His thoughts jumped back and forth from anger to sadness to fear, his whole body tense and agitated. This whole thing, it… it felt wrong. Something about it all sat uneasily in Link, all the way through to his core.

"…So… just like that? You're going to just… let me kill you?" He asked in confusion, loosening his hold again.

"I don't… have much… to live for… anyway. No… master, I'll be the … last of my kind soon, and both kinds. Might as well wipe it… all out." A tired smile graced his lips as he spoke, tongue moving to lick his lips, although his lips were so black at this point, it didn't really matter.

Link felt his chest tighten and he bit his lip, feeling all his emotions start to condense into an overwhelming wave. This was too much to take in. The anger mixed with pity, the compassion mixed with fear, and all of this combined with the fact he had given up so much to come to this point- and he was tired.

"What is WITH YOU?!" He burst out suddenly, throwing his sword in disgust and pacing in circles, pushing the heels of his hands to his temples. "For months you've done nothing but terrorize me, threaten me, fight me - and try to bring about the end of the damn world, and now finally- finally I have this chance to end you for good, and what do you do? You… you just… you act like you're the one who has it bad! All this time, acting so pleased, and when you lose suddenly… suddenly I'm the assistant to your suicide. At the end of all this, you're still messing me up. You can't give me one break, can you?!"

He stopped his yelling to press his hands to his eyes and take deep breaths.

Ghirahim watched him, listening to the fury in his words, and in the past, the anger would have riled him up and he would have pulled the hero close to him and make him even angrier, asking for consent though, as he fell to pleasure's call. He wasn't sure what it was, but seeing that face twisted with such primal emotion made him writhe.

Even if pleasure and lust was a base instinct, even everything there was that should have been there except his projection clinging to its form and keeping air flowing through his body. He was too tired for all of that, any of those things except staying awake and listening.

"You… you could force me to live. Make me suffer." He spoke as Link's breathing was heavy and laboured.

Link scoffed bitterly, dropping his hands tiredly from his face. "That sounds like something you would do…" he said in a hollow voice. He looked down at his hands, the emotion drained from him again.

"I used to think I wanted you to suffer. But… I can see you suffering now, and… well, I guess I don't. I just… want it to be over." He looked over to Ghirahim, and walked back over to him. "Is that what you want?"

Ghirahim thought, looking up at the sky and his expression softened. "I'd like to live... but... I am unable to move or anything, and knowing... the Gate of Time... Once you return... Probably there will be no going back to this time. It would... take me... that long... to return to ... my former self... on my own." He spoke, slowing down as his energy dimmed again, and he furrowed his brow in frustration.

"You could... become my master." He offered. "Although... since you are mortal... and without a reserve of magic... for me to draw from... you'll... have to give me some of your blood to bind my blade to your use..."

Link stared at him in shock, slowly kneeling back beside him again. "I… could be your master?" He looked at the Master Sword he'd dropped in his anger, reaching over to bring it into his lap. "…You're… you're like Fi, aren't you?" He asked quietly. "You're a sword spirit…" He chewed on his lip a moment, reaching out with worn fingertips to rub the blood from Ghirahim's cheek. He knew he didn't want to kill him. Not anymore. And definitely not like this. And if this was the only way they could proceed, then… he sighed tiredly.

"…Okay. I… I'll do it."

Ghirahim leaned into the touch that brushed against his cheek, moving to clean the inky blood from his whitened cheek. "Thank you." He gave him a small smile, one that was genuine and not one where he had something planned. Before, Link was meant to be a blockade, an obstacle preventing him from achieving his goal and serving his master, finishing the task assigned to him.

"You'll… need to cut your… hand on my blade." He spoke. "And then slather blood on the metal." His form wavered and his projection faded, retreating into the sword for Link's use.

He startled slightly at the transformation, drawing back hesitantly as he ran his eyes over the terrifying black blade. He swallowed hard, carefully pulling at the glove of his left hand and putting it aside. He wasn't sure if another wound would be inconsequential or even worse given his current battered state.

He leaned forward, touching his palm to one of the fiercely sharp points that branched out of the metal. He paused, collecting himself carefully before he went through with it, but he knew that in the end… there was no backing out. He made a clean line in his skin that barely registered as pain at first, given the honed edges, but it quickly began to seep blood and he flexed gently to stimulate the flow before running his hand along the sword. He took his hand back and held it to his chest in a fist to staunch the flow, waiting for what happened next.

Ghirahim's blade let out a soft glow, shifting as the metal drew the blood into itself, repairing the red gem that was cracked at the top, fixing in place and letting out a pulsing glow, the tell tale sign that Ghirahim was fixing his form inside the sword, and would return when he was repaired, which would be a little while. It would be a few hours before he was conscious and could communicate from within the sword as he healed.

Link stared at the sword, but once it was clear Ghirahim wouldn't be returning from his healing anytime soon, he resolved to head back.

"Fi… am I doing the right thing?" He mumbled to her, holding Ghirahim's blade and standing, the Master Sword having returned to its sheath and the blue spirit leaping from the hilt.

"That is a very subjective term. My analysis suggests you are doing an action based in what humans describe as… 'following your heart.' The outcome of your decision is debatable by logical standards. But your emotional state indicates that you prefer this course of action to another."

He laughed weakly and nodded.

"Also, Master Link… as a spirit whom inhabits a sword, I can relay to you that we prefer having a master, or otherwise, a purpose. There are many possibilities as to what the final outcome of this will be, but there is also an eighty percent chance that it will be a positive one. You have saved Ghirahim's life, as well as binding yourself to him as his master. The probability of him exuding gratitude and loyalty is very high."

He looked at her in wonder, then back down to the sword. "I… thanks, Fi."

He drank his last potion to give him the strength to make the walk up through the pit, but he paused before the door. He wasn't about to just walk in with it in hand. He laid it gently in the grass by the wall before going inside and being greeted by his friends - and, much to his relief, a fully alive and whole Zelda.

Much to his shock, however, he found the bond that connected him to Fi had reached it's end, and he was to give up being her master. But when all goodbyes had ended, he sent the others ahead and retrieved the sword to take with him through the gate, now placing it in a dark corner before quickly joining the group as the last goodbye was said. He took to the Goddess Statue with Zelda, enjoying the sense of peace with her there for awhile before taking his leave to be alone, returning to the temple.


End file.
